


sensory stages of grief

by nedstark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Grief/Mourning, M/M, stab wound mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nedstark/pseuds/nedstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mourning + sight, sound, taste, scent and touch</p>
            </blockquote>





	sensory stages of grief

**Author's Note:**

> tryna go for a fic every few days, as different as i can make each one for as long as the inspiration decides to stay heh  
> this one is just a bit sadder than the last  
> hope you enjoy!  
> betaed by and title from the irreplaceable [tasha!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aengel)

Cas is dead.  
  
Dean eyes a blackbird soaring in the sky and thinks _it’s the same colour as his hair shining in the sun_.  
  
He frowns and then scowls, forces himself to turn away. He reminds himself.  
  
Cas is dead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Cas is still dead.  
  
Dean finds a flower pressed between the pages of his favourite book and thinks _it’s the same ruddy shade his cheeks turn when it snows_.  
  
He feels his heart stop, his mouth goes dry and he lets it slip through his numb fingers. He hears the crunch of it under his boot as he flees. He reminds himself again.  
  
Cas is dead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Cas has been dead for two months.  
  
Dean’s standing at the edge of the ocean, tide lapping lazily at his feet and the wind is howling in his ears as he thinks _it’s the same noise he made when we-_  
  
He feels his eyes sting and he sneers at his own weakness, his soft heart. A few more pathetic drops of salt water mean nothing here. He throws his head back and screams along with the wind. He refuses to hear the reminder, the truth.  
  
Cas is dead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Cas has been dead for a year.  
  
Dean eats a forkful of the pie he doesn't remember the flavour of after he ordered it and freezes when it hits his taste buds and thinks _it’s the same taste on his lips the first time I kissed him_.  
  
The fork clatters forgotten to the table as he throws a fifty down and storms out before he can chase the flavour further. He slams the Impala door closed with a force he’d reprimand anyone else for, braces his arms against the wheel and bows his head over it. He takes deep breaths before he tells himself out loud.  
  
Cas is dead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Cas loved autumn. It’s autumn now but he doesn't know how long it’s been anymore.  
  
Dean breathes deep as scents of leaves crunching underfoot and spiralling down overhead fill his nose and thinks _it smells the same as the day he said he loved me for the first time and the last_.  
  
He _fucking hates_ autumn. He was always a good liar. He almost convinces himself.  
  
Cas is dead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Dean is dying.  
  
At least they can say he fought to the end. With effort, the very last of his strength, he manages to raise a shaking hand to touch the jagged shard of glass impaled in his heart and thinks _it feels the same as it did the day I saw him die and the day I knew I loved him_.  
  
He lets his heavy eyes fall shut and the last thing he sees is the ring on his left hand catching the light. His smile is a bloody thing.  
  
He is dying when he hears the painfully familiar ruffling of wings.  
  
Dean is dead.  
  
Cas is-


End file.
